PS 


"R5 


I     LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 

CALIFORNIA 
i          SAN1  OIE6O 


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[See   p.  20 

THIRTY    TIMES    DID    A    PIECE    OF    SILVER    DROP    INTO    THE    OUT 
STRETCHED    CLAW 


BY 
CLAKENCE    B.  KELLAND 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER  &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK    AND    LONDON 

M  C  M  X  1 1 1 


COPYRIGHT.     1913.     BY    HARPER    &    BROTHERS 
PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 


PUBLISHED    SEPTEMBER.     1913 

E-N 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THIRTY  TIMES  DID  A  PIECE  OF  SILVER  DROP 

INTO  THE  OUTSTRETCHED  CLAW  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

AN  OLD  MAN — EMBARRASSED,  HESITATING — IN 

THE  GARB  OF  THE  SALVATION  ARMY  .  .  Facing  p.  4 

ALONG  THE  ROAD  HURRIED  AND  JOSTLED  A 

THRONG  ARMED  WITH  SWORDS  AND  STAVES  "  20 


ORDINARY  men  and  women 
made  up  Carnavon's  audi 
ence — shopkeepers,  artisans, 
doctors,  lawyers,  clerks;  and 
he  held  them  breathless,  spell 
bound.  They  leaned  forward 
in  their  seats,  every  one  of  the 
two  thousand  of  them  avari 
cious  of  each  vibrant  word. 
In  obedience  to  his  genius 
they  swayed  with  laughter, 
rewarded  his  pathos  with 
tears,  gasped  at  the  daring 
of  his  climaxes.  And  yet  he  attacked 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

what  many  of  them  held  most  dear — 
their  God. 

From  the  instant  of  Carnavon's  ap 
pearance  on  the  platform  the  audience 
had  been  his,  conquered  before  he 
uttered  a  word  by  the  potency  of  his 
presence,  by  the  excellence  of  his  phys 
ical  self,  by  the  magnificence  of  the 
animal.  At  his  first  utterance  there 
seemed  to  arise  a  collective  sigh,  and 
thenceforward  until  he  ceased  speak 
ing  his  hearers  were  not  their  own, 
but  Carnavon's. 

The  showman  moves  his  puppets 
with  invisible  threads,  so  that  they 
dance  and  posture  and  contort  them 
selves  as  he  wills;  Carnavon's  invisi 
ble  threads  reached  not  from  his 
fingers  to  the  limbs  of  his  audience, 
but  from  his  mind  to  their  brains  and 
hearts  —  and  they  comported  them- 


THIRTY   PIECES   OF   SILVER 

selves  according  to  his  desires.  He 
was  such  an  orator  as  the  world  hears 
once  in  many  generations.  He  held 
sacred  matters  dangling  before  men 
and  women  in  whom  religion  had  been 
planted  and  watered  from  the  cradle, 
yet  under  his  relentless  logic,  his  flash 
ing  wit,  his  acid  irony,  they  shriveled 
and  crackled  to  ashes  and  were  sacred 
no  more.  Out  of  curiosity,  men  firm 
in  their  faith  came  to  see  and  hear 
him;  they  departed  doubting  God,  if 
not  denying  Him;  groping  for  a  foot 
hold  in  a  world  he  had  deprived  of  its 
firm  foundation. 

This  thing  Carnavon  did  for  a 
price — for  one  thousand  dollars  a 
lecture. 

After  his  address  Carnavon  was 
driven  to  his  hotel,  and  went  at  once 
to  his  apartments.  Scarcely  had  he 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

made  himself  comfortable,  with  a 
book  to  compose  himself  before  retir 
ing,  when  a  knock  sounded  on  his  door. 
He  closed  his  volume  impatiently. 

"Come  in,"  he  said. 

The  door  opened  reluctantly,  and 
Carnavon  was  startled  to  see  on  his 
threshold  an  old  man — embarrassed, 
hesitating — an  old  man  white  of  hair, 
with  patriarchal  beard,  clothed  in  the 
garb  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

"Mr.  Carnavon,"  he  said,  diffi 
dently,  "may  I  come  in?" 

Carnavon  recovered  himself  and 
motioned  to  a  chair.  "How  can  I 
serve  you?"  he  asked,  rising  with 
always  ready  courtesy. 

The  old  man  paused  a  moment 
before  replying,  and  fumbled  the  vizor 
of  his  cap. 

;'You  can  give  a  few  of  the  many 

4 


•*•<" 


AX    OLD    MAN- 


-EMBARRASSED,    HESITATING IX    THE    GARB     OF 

THE    SALVATION    ARMY 


THIRTY   PIECES   OF   SILVER 

minutes  yet  before  you  to  an  old  man 
whose  course  is  nearly  run,"  he  said 
at  length,  and  his  voice  was  singularly 
gentle,  "a  few  minutes  leavened  with 
patience." 

Carnavon  bowed  assent,  and  again 
motioned  to  a  chair,  which  the  old 
man  declined,  but  smiled  in  the  de 
clining. 

"I  heard  you  speak  to-night,"  he 
said;  then  paused.  ''You  were  like 
the  picture  I  have  loved  to  make  of 
young  Saul  of  Tarsus  before  his  feet 
trod  the  road  to  Damascus." 

Carnavon  was  astonished.  Not  in 
frequently  had  he  been  compelled  to 
listen  privately  to  his  opponents,  to 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  to  zealots 
who  forced  themselves  upon  him  to 
convert  or  condemn.  To  all  alike, 
whether  they  came  in  humility  and 

1  5 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

love,  or  in  heat  and  with  invective  on 
their  lips,  he  had  comported  himself 
with  the  same  dignity,  the  same  cour 
tesy,  the  same  self-restraint.  But 
none  had  been  like  this  little  old  man 
in  uniform;  about  none  had  hovered 
this  spirit  of  gentle  sweetness,  of 
fatherly  affection. 

"Sir,"  continued  the  aged  warrior 
of  God's  Army  of  the  Streets,  "I  have 
not  come  hoping  to  convert  you  to  my 
belief.  You  are  a  greater  man  than 
I,  blessed  with  greater  gifts,  and  I 
could  not  prevail.  I  have  come  to 
ask  you  one  question.  Sir,  are  you 
sincere?  Do  you  believe  in  your 
heart  the  things  you  say  with  your 
lips?" 

"If  I  did  not,"  replied  Carnavon, 
"I  should  remain  silent." 

The  old  man  regarded  him  steadily, 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

his  expression  one  almost  of  affection. 
"Sir,"  lie  said, presently,  "can  perfect 
sincerity  and  one  thousand  dollars  a 
lecture  go  hand  in  hand?  When  I  am 
gone  I  ask  you  to  consider  this.  One, 
believing  in  the  Master,  betrayed  Him 
for  thirty  pieces  of  silver;  you,  not 
believing  in  Him,  cannot  betray  Him, 
but  you  war  on  Him  with  the  weapons 
He  gave  you — for  many  times  thirty 
pieces  of  silver.  With  your  honest  un 
belief  I  have  no  quarrel;  when  you 
pass  it  on  to  others  for  gain  you  do  an 
ill  thing.  God  may  forgive  the  honest 
doubt — the  thirty  pieces  of  silver  He 
cannot  forget." 

The  stranger  spoke  as  to  one  he 
loved,  without  rancor,  softening  criti 
cism  with  gentleness.  Carnavon  was 
not  offended;  indeed,  he  was  moved, 
but  waited,  making  no  reply. 

7 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

Again  the  old  man  spoke,  this  time 
as  he  retired  toward  the  door. 

"Sir,  I  have  liked  to  think  of  Saul 
as  I  see  you.  So  have  I  pictured  him 
when  he  went  out  in  his  young 
strength  against  the  followers  of  the 
Master.  He  traveled  his  road  to 
Damascus  and  saw  his  vision.  One 
day  a  vision  may  come  to  you."  He 
paused  in  the  open  door  and  stretched 
out  his  hand  with  the  gesture  of  one 
who  asks  a  thrice-valued  favor.  "If 
the  vision  comes,  and  I  am  yet  alive, 
will  you  seek  me  out?  I  have  not  far 
to  go  before  my  race  is  done,  but  that 
would  be  sweet  knowledge  for  me  to 
carry  yonder  with  me." 

Carnavon  rose,  smiling  the  smile 
that  drew  men  to  him.  "If  Saul  sees 
his  vision  and  becomes  Paul,  he  will 
come  to  you,"  he  said. 

8 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

Then  the  door  closed  on  the  ancient 
soldier  of  peace,  and  he  was  gone. 

Carnavon  having  no  heaven  to 
look  forward  to,  strove  to  make  his 
plot  of  earth  more  beautiful.  His 
home,  a  structure  to  delight  the  fancy, 
stood  among  acres  whose  loveliness 
was  wrought  by  art  that  aided  and 
followed,  rather  than  sought  to  lead 
nature.  Within  the  house,  wherever 
the  eye  rested,  were  paintings,  statues, 
tapestries,  furnishings  that  made  one 
eager  for  a  longer  scrutiny.  Vases 
of  exquisite  form,  antiques  from  the 
hands  of  long-dead  masters,  medal 
lions  wrought  by  the  great  Cellini  him 
self,  made  splendid  nook  and  niche. 
Indeed,  Carnavon  loved  his  medals 
with  a  particular  affection ;  they 
were  his  avocation,  they  and  their 

9 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

baser   kindred  born  to  commerce  — 
coins. 

No  common  coin-collector  was  he; 
not  for  age  or  rarity  or  country  did 
he  seek,  but  for  beauty  alone.  A  coin 
no  bigger  than  the  nail  of  one's  finger, 
if  it  but  presented  the  face  of  beauty, 
gave  him  greater  joy  than  a  canvas 
made  immortal  by  Titian  or  a  statue 
hewn  by  the  chisel  of  the  demigod 
Michael  Angelo.  In  every  human 
creature  is  a  store  of  love;  love  in 
desuetude  is  unthinkable — it  must 
have  an  object,  worthy  or  unworthy, 
virtuous  or  depraved.  No  woman  had 
nestled  into  Carnavon's  life;  religion 
he  rejected;  his  medals  and  coins  re 
mained,  and  he  loved  them  for  their 
loveliness. 

He  sat  in  his  library  when  a  servant 

entered,  saying:    ''There  is  a  man  at 
10 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

the  door  who  asks  to  see  you.  He 
had  no  card." 

"Ask  him  his  business  with  me," 
directed  Carnavon. 

The  man  returned  presently.  "It 
is  about  a  coin,  sir — a  rare  coin,  he 
says." 

"Show  him  in,"  said  Carnavon. 

He  arose  as  the  caller  entered.  The 
man  was  of  doubtful  age;  evidently  a 
Hebrew.  "Mr.  Carnavon?"  he  asked. 
Carnavon  nodded. 

"I  have  brought  for  your  inspection 
a  rare  and,  I  consider,  beautiful  coin. 
I  understand  you  are  interested  in 
such." 

;<Yes,"  replied  Carnavon,  "pro 
vided  they  are  beautiful." 

The  Hebrew  drew  a  tiny  parcel  from 
his  pocket,  removed  a  paper  wrapping, 

and  disclosed  a  small  metal  box.  Rais- 
11 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

ing  the  cover  of  this,  he  extracted  a 
small  silver  coin  and  extended  it  to 
Carnavon. 

The  master  of  the  house  accepted  it 
and  moved  closer  to  the  light,  scruti 
nizing  it  jealously.  A  puzzled  expres 
sion  crossed  his  face.  "I  have  never 
seen  a  similar  piece,"  he  said.  "In 
deed,  I  must  confess  I  do  not  identify 
it.  Will  you  do  so  for  me?" 

"It  is  of  Hebrew  coinage,"  ex 
plained  the  dealer.  :' You  will  observe 
in  relief  the  olive  branch  and  the  pot 
of  manna.  Simon  the  High  Priest  had 
authority  to  stamp  and  issue  it. 
Nineteen  hundred  odd  years,  you  see, 
is  its  age,  yet  it  is  wonderfully  pre 
served — scarcely  worn.  I  have  han 
dled  thousands  of  coins,  but  none  of 
such  antiquity  not  worn  almost  to 

obliteration." 

12 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF   SILVER 

"It  is  rarely  beautiful,"  admitted 
Carnavon.  "I  should  like  to  possess 
it.  What  price  have  you  set?" 

"Though  I  am  a  dealer,  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  give  it  a  value.  Allow  me  to 
leave  it  with  you  a  few  days,  not  as 
a  coin,  but  as  an  article  of  vertu.  At 
the  end  of  that  time  make  me  an 
offer." 

It  was  a  strange  enough  proposition, 
yet  fair,  and  Carnavon  acceded  in 
stantly.  The  Hebrew  expressed  his 
thanks  and  took  his  departure. 

Carnavon  moved  to  the  inviting 
depths  of  a  huge  chair  before  the 
glowing  log  in  the  fireplace,  and,  hold 
ing  the  coin  of  Simon  the  High  Priest 
in  his  palm,  leaned  forward,  the  better 
to  possess  the  beauties  of  it.  Over 
and  over  he  turned  it,  marking  its 
perfection  of  design,  the  miracle  of 

2  13 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

its  preservation.  A  coin  of  Simon 
the  High  Priest !  To  a  master-student 
of  sacred  history  what  scenes  were 
limned  at  the  mention  of  that  name! 
It  was  Carnavon's  profession  to  jeer 
at  inconsistencies  in  the  epic  of  the 
Passion;  to  tear  it  part  from  part 
with  the  scalpel  of  his  remorseless 
logic;  but  to  deny  its  poetic  beauty 
must  be  left  to  another  than  he.  It 
was  his  custom  to  refer  to  it  as  the 
greatest  fiction  in  the  world. 

An  hour  he  spent  thus,  delighting 
in  his  new  possession.  At  last,  raising 
his  eyes  at  the  sudden  darkening  of 
the  room,  he  saw  that  the  room  was 
no  longer  about  him;  he  was  standing 
in  a  great  court,  stone-paved,  high- 
walled,  porticoed,  and  before  him  rose 
majestically  the  pile  of  a  great  build 
ing,  its  successive  terraces  lifting  up- 

14 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

ward  and  upward  in  awful  grandeur. 
Carnavon  gazed  incredulous,  for  the 
outline  of  the  structure  was  familiar 
to  him.  He  knew  that  he  was  stand 
ing  in  the  shadow  of  Solomon's  porch, 
in  the  court  of  the  Gentiles  of  Herod's 
temple  in  Jerusalem. 

As  he  marveled,  a  man,  furtive  of 
action,  appeared  from  the  direction  of 
the  gate  of  Coponius,  and  strode  rap 
idly  inside  the  confines  marked  by  the 
soreg,  beyond  which  no  Gentile  dare 
pass  on  pain  of  death.  Carnavon 
knew  the  law,  yet  he  was  drawn  to 
follow,  impelled  by  something  outside 
his  own  will.  Doubtless  he  would 
have  gone  of  his  own  volition,  for  the 
man  passed  so  close  to  him  that  Car 
navon  saw  his  face,  the  gleaming 
whites  of  his  eyes;  saw  terror  made 
more  repulsive  by  cupidity.  The 

15 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

cheeks  were  unnaturally  white,  their 
pallor  accentuated  by  the  blackness  of 
the  hair  and  beard.  One  hand  was 
hidden  within  the  folds  of  the  gar 
ment,  the  other  was  potently  express 
ive;  now  it  closed  tightly,  trembling 
with  the  tension  of  gripping  muscles, 
now  it  opened  slowly,  finger  by  finger. 
It  was  the  hand  of  a  man  in  agony, 
of  a  man  who  suffered  torture  in  soul 
or  body.  It  was  the  face  that  told 
Carnavon  the  pain  was  not  phys 
ical. 

Seeing  such  a  one  in  such  a  place 
alone,  Carnavon  must  have  followed. 

Within,  pacing  restlessly  up  and 
down  in  the  shadow,  was  an  impos 
ing  patriarchal  figure,  priestly  robed, 
wearing  the  insignia  of  the  High 
Priest  of  Israel.  The  moonlight  fell 
on  his  face,  and  Carnavon  read  impa- 

16 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF   SILVER 

tience,  anxiety,  perturbation.  Now 
and  again  lie  lifted  his  shoulders,  ex 
pelled  his  breath.  Toward  him  the 
furtive  stranger  hastened.  Carnavon 
stood  in  the  shelter  of  a  pillar  and 
watched  and  listened. 

The  High  Priest  stopped,  bent  his 
body  forward,  and  scrutinized  the 
figure  that  approached  him.  The 
furtive  one  paused  a  few  paces  away, 
bent  his  head  obsequiously.  His  eyes 
could  not  meet  the  eyes  of  the  High 
Priest;  perhaps  the  jewels  set  in  the 
priest's  breastplate  blinded  him,  for 
they  gave  back  the  glare  of  the 
moon. 

"I  have  come,"  said  the  man.  Car 
navon  could  see  the  trembling  of  his 
hand. 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  High  Priest, 
in  guarded  tones.  As  the  man  drew 

17 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

nearer,  the  priest  drew  his  garments 
away  as  'though  fearing  defilement. 
"Wilt  thou  do  the  thing?" 

The  man  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  but  words  died  in  his  throat; 
he  moved  his  lower  jaw,  as  one  does 
who  talks,  but  no  sound  came.  He 
raised  his  hand,  which  shook  as  with 
a  palsy,  and  wiped  his  brow.  At  last 
he  became  articulate.  "I  will  do  it," 
he  whispered,  and  shuddered  in  the 
speaking. 

"The  plan  and  the  place,  thou 
knowest  them?" 

"I  know  them." 

"And  the  hour?" 

"Thy  men  must  watch.  .  .  .  The 
hour  I  know  not.  They  must  watch 
and  follow." 

"Where  shall  they  watch?" 

"In  a  place  I  will  show  them.  .  .  . 

18 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

Before  going  in  I  will  lead  them  to 
the  spot." 

Silence  fell.  The  High  Priest 
frowned  darkly,  yet  his  face,  strong, 
crafty,  impressive,  told  of  his  satis 
faction  in  a  desire  fulfilled,  in  an  end 
accomplished.  The  furtive  man  stood 
motionless,  an  evil  thing  to  look  upon. 

"By  what  sign  shall  my  soldiers 
know  Him  whom  we  seek?"  asked 
the  High  Priest.  "Perchance  they 
may  mistake  another  for  Him.  .  .  . 
But  thou  goest  with  them  to  show  the 
way  and  the  place.  When  thou  hast 
come  unto  Him,  go  thou  to  His  side 
and  kiss  Him  on  the  cheek  as  a  sign 
that  He  is  the  man  and  none  other." 
There  was  scorn  in  the  voice  of  Simon 
the  High  Priest  for  the  instrument 
that  was  fitted  to  his  hand. 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  would 

19 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

have  departed,  but  the  furtive  man 
clutched  his  mantle  and  detained  him. 
Simon  frowned  back  into  that  face 
distorted  by  avarice,  and  his  eyes 
grew  hard. 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "I  had  forgotten 
thy  wage."  And  forthwith  he  drew  a 
bag  from  the  folds  of  his  upper  gar 
ment,  and  counted  money  into  the 
hand  of  the  man — and  Carnavon 
counted  with  him.  Thirty  times  did 
the  fingers  of  the  High  Priest  enter 
the  bag,  and  thirty  times  did  a  piece 
of  silver  drop  into  the  outstretched, 
trembling  claw.  The  last  of  the  thirty 
fell  from  the  overflowing  palm  and 
rolled  to  Carnavon's  feet,  resting  in  a 
spot  of  moonlight.  It  glittered  whitely 
—and  in  distinct  relief  was  visible 
the  familiar  pot  of  manna:  in  every 

respect    it    was    the    fellow    of    the 
20 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

coin  Carnavon  still  grasped  in  his 
hand. 

Carnavon  looked  again,  and  the 
temple  was  not  there,  neither  was  the 
furtive  one,  nor  the  High  Priest.  All 
about  him  stretched  the  darkness, 
light-dotted;  in  the  distance,  toward 
the  city,  the  mingled  voices  of  ap 
proaching  tumult  affronted  the  night. 
Presently  along  the  road  hurried  and 
jostled  a  throng  armed  with  swords 
and  staves,  at  their  head  the  furtive 
stranger  of  the  temple,  his  black  beard 
sunk  on  his  breast.  Carnavon  was 
impelled  to  follow  them. 

Carnavon  outstripped  the  rabble. 
The  road  seemed  familiar  to  him,  his 
destination  determined.  He  hurried 
onward. 

On  a  hillside  he  came  on  a  little 
body  of  men  sleeping.  He  paused, 

3  21 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

looked  on  them,  and  wondered.  Pres 
ently,  from  a  little  way  off  came  a 
figure,  erect,  bare  of  head,  with  face 
majestically  sorrowful.  Awe  of  that 
presence  laid  itself  on  Carnavon  so 
that  he  was  fain  to  avert  his  eyes. 
The  Man  paused  by  the  sleeping 
group,  sighed,  shook  his  head  ten 
derly,  and  went  away  again  to 
kneel  beside  a  rock  and  pray. 
His  voice  was  audible  to  Carna 
von. 

"Oh,  my  father,  if  it  be  possible,  let 
this  cup  pass  from  me.  .  .  ." 

After  a  time  spent  in  supplication 
and  anguish  of  spirit  the  Man  arose, 
his  face  lightened,  serene,  and  came 
again  to  the  sleeping  group.  Carna- 
von's  eyes  filled,  for  never  had  he 
dreamed  a  face  of  such  gentle  bravery. 
The  Man  spoke  again: 

22 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

"Sleep  on  now,  and  take  your  rest: 
behold  the  hour  is  at  hand.  ..." 

While  he  was  speaking  the  rabble 
ascended  the  hill,  and  at  their  head 
cringed  the  furtive  one.  The  Man 
watched  their  approach  calmly,  but 
his  companions,  trembling,  gathered 
about  him,  pressing  close,  trembling, 
calling  out  in  fear. 

The  furtive  one  pushed  his  way  to 
the  center  of  the  group,  to  the  very 
side  of  the  Man,  and  cried  out  in 
a  voice  hoarse,  fearful,  quivering, 
"Master  .  .  .  Master"  and  kissed 
Him  on  the  cheek.  And  as  he  moved, 
Carnavon  could  hear  the  sound  of 
pieces  of  silver  jingling  together  in  his 
garment. 

The  Master  spoke  softly,  calmly, 
with  infinite  sorrow.  " Judas'9- —His 
eyes  rested  an  instant  on  the  cringing 

93 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

figure—  •"  betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  Man 
with  a  kiss?" 

Cries  of  dismay  rose  weakly  from 
the  little  group  of  followers,  and  they 
fell  away,  seeking  safety  for  them 
selves — all  save  one,  a  man  of  face 
to  remember,  who  feared,  yet  was 
steadfast  in  defense  of  Him  he  loved. 
This  one  drew  his  sword  and  threw 
himself  before  the  Master,  and  as  the 
soldiers  of  the  High  Priest  pressed 
forward  he  smote  at  them  and  severed 
an  ear  from  the  head  of  one  of  the 
foremost. 

The  Master  commanded  him  to 
put  up  his  weapon,  stepped  forward  a 
pace,  touched  the  wound  with  his 
finger,  and  it  was  healed. 

Carnavon  looked  again,  and  it  was 
daylight  in  the  court  of  Herod's  tem 
ple,  He  passed  inward  and  stood  with 

24 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

an  assembly  about  the  person  of  the 
High  Priest  Simon,  men  of  weight  and 
dignity,  the  priests  and  elders  of  the 
people.  As  he  watched  them,  heads 
together,  discussing  some  matter  of 
import,  there  came  again  the  furtive 
one,  now  ridden  by  remorse,  by  terror, 
so  that  his  face  was  ill  to  look  upon, 
and  he  approached  the  High  Priest, 
saying,  in  a  voice  like  the  croaking  of 
a  raven,  "I  have  sinned,  ...  7  have 
betrayed  the  innocent  blood,"  and  fell 
upon  his  knees,  his  hands  full  of  silver. 

The  High  Priest  looked  on  him 
coldly,  and  replied  in  even  tones: 
"What  is  that  to  us?  See  thou  to 
that." 

Whereupon  the  furtive  one  flung 
the  silver  from  him  wildly,  and  rushed 
out  of  the  temple,  Carnavor  following, 
until  they  came  to  a  lonely  place;  and 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

there  the  man  hanged  himself  from  a 
tree  so  that  his  feet  dangled  over  a 
precipice. 

Again  Carnavon  stood  by  a  road 
side,  and  the  way  was  filled  with  a 
great  multitude,  shouting,  distracted; 
in  their  midst  a  company  of  soldiers 
surrounding  the  Man  who  staggered 
under  the  weight  of  a  cross — stag 
gered,  fell  to  his  knees,  for  the  weight 
was  too  great  for  his  strength.  The 
soldiers  consulted,  then  laid  hands  on 
a  man  of  the  people  and  made  him 
take  up  the  burden. 

The  procession  moved  forward 
slowly.  Behind  the  man  came  a 
company,  composed  for  the  most  part 
of  women,  wTho  wept  and  raised  their 
voices  in  sorrow,  lamenting  His  an 
guish.  He  turned  to  them  and  said, 
"Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for 

26 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER 

me  ..."  The  remainder  of  his  words 
were  lost  to  Carnavon  in  the  general 
clamor. 

Again,  Carnavon  stood  upon  a  bare, 
forbidding  hillside  among  a  shout 
ing,  gesticulating  throng,  and  from  the 
apex  of  the  hill  arose  three  crosses. 
Carnavon  covered  his  face,  for  the 
sight  was  cruel. 

From  the  mob  of  shouting  people 
jeers  and  gibes  arose;  and  one  man, 
more  conspicuous  than  his  fellows, 
strode  nearer  the  foot  of  the  central 
cross  and  cried,  loudly: 

"For  thirty  pieces  of  silver  was  He 
sold — this  King  of  the  Jews.  Doth 
not  a  slave  bring  more?"  And  he 
continued  to  utter  gibes  and  rid 
icule. 

At  last  the  Man  opened  His  eyes 
and  regarded  His  tormentor,  not  with 

27 


anger,  not  rebukingly,  but  with  majes 
tic  calm.  It  was  not  a  glance  to  strike 
terror;  it  conveyed  no  anger,  no 
threat;  but  the  tormentor  fell  silent, 
awed  by  its  divine  loftiness. 

It  seemed  to  Carnavon  that  the 
Master's  eyes  sought  him  out  and 
touched  him  for  an  instant,  and  he 
sank  to  the  ground,  crouching  in  awe 
and  hiding  his  face  from  the  eyes  of 
Him  he  had  persecuted. 

Suddenly  there  fell  a  darkness  that 
was  impenetrable.  The  Master  ut 
tered  His  final  words,  "Father,  into 
thy  hinds  I  commit  my  spirit."  His 
head  sank  on  His  breast ;  His  suffering 
was  done.  All  about  Carnavon  reigned 
confusion,  terror.  Rumors  were  rife; 
men  ran  hither  and  yon,  not  knowing 
what  they  did ;  prodigies  were  reported 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  one  there 

28 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF   SILVER 

was   who   cried,   in   a   terrible   voice, 
'The  curtain  of  the  temple  is  rent  in 
twain.  ..." 

Behold,  it  was  another  day.  Car- 
navon  stood  outside  the  walls  of  the 
Holy  City,  and  the  hour  was  dawn. 
Along  the  road  wrhich  lay  before  him 
came  two  women,  one  of  whom  Car- 
navon  recognized  as  the  mother  of  the 
Master,  and  their  faces  were  alight 
with  joy.  Carnavon  wondered  in  his 
heart  how  this  could  be.  Suddenly 
there  was  another  figure  walking  by 
their  side,  a  Man.  Carnavon  started, 
stared  in  astonishment,  for  it  was  a 
figure  that  could  not  be  mistaken— 
the  same  noble  face  he  had  seen  in  the 
garden  and  on  the  cross.  He  abased 
himself,  hiding  his  face.  It  was  the 
Master  wThom  he  had  seen  crucified, 
dead,  hanging  from  the  cross.  It  was 

3  29 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF   SILVER 

the  Master,  risen  from  the  dead,  re 
leased  from  His  tomb.  .  .  . 

Carnavon  dared  lift  his  face  to  look 
again.  The  eyes  of  the  Master  were 
fixed  on  him,  met  his  eyes,  and  the 
Master  smiled.  .  .  . 

Carnavon  raised  himself  to  his  feet 
from  the  depths  of  his  chair  before  the 
blazing  fire,  and  passed  his  hand 
across  his  eyes  as  though  to  wipe 
away  a  film.  Then,  without  move 
ment,  he  stood  staring  into  the  blaze, 
his  face  a  mask;  and  so  he  remained 
until  the  log  was  embers  and  the  blaze 
a  glow.  He  sighed.  His  features 
changed  from  stoniness  to  grief,  and  he 
raised  the  hand  in  which  was  clasped 
the  piece  of  silver  of  the  coinage  of 
Simon,  opened  it,  and,  bowing  his  head, 

gazed  reverently  on  a  sacred  thing, 
so 


THIRTY  PIECES   OF   SILVER 

Swiftly  his  bearing  altered  to  deter 
mination,  to  action.  He  thrust  on  his 
coat,  his  hat,  and  went  out  into  the 
night,  traversing  road  and  street  until 
he  came  to  the  crowded  places  of  the 
city  where  men  turned  night  into  day. 
And  as  he  walked  he  listened.  Faintly, 
borne  to  his  ear  on  the  chill  wind,  came 
the  sound  of  singing,  of  instruments  of 
music,  of  drums,  and  he  smiled. 

In  a  public  square  huddled  a  shiver 
ing,  squalid  crowed,  its  nucleus  a  little 
band  of  uniformed  soldiers  of  the 
Cross — men  and  women.  As  Carna- 
von  approached,  the  music  ceased;  a 
small,  tottering  old  man,  silvery  of 
hair  and  beard,  doffed  his  cap  and 
stepped  to  the  center  of  the  circle, 
raising  his  hand  for  silence.  Carnavon 
had  found  \vhom  he  sought;  it  was 

the  stranger  of  the  hotel  room, 
si 


THIRTY   PIECES   OF   SILVER 

Carnavon  made  his  way  through 
the  fringe  of  idle  listeners,  swayed  to 
the  side  of  the  praying  old  man, 
and,  urged  to  impatience  by  emotion, 
waited  not  for  him  to  cease.  He 
clutched  an  extended  hand,  and, 
broken-voiced,  cried:  "/  have  sinned. 
.  .  .  I  have  betrayed  the  innocent  blood!" 

The  old  preacher  of  the  streets 
paused,  looked  on  Carnavon's  face, 
and  over  his  wrinkled  features  spread 
a  look  of  perfect  peace,  of  richest 
happiness. 

:'You — you  have  stood  on  the  road 
to  Damascus—  '  he  whispered,  hands 
groping  for  Carnavon's  hands. 

"And  I  have  seen  a  vision,"  Carna 
von  said,  simply. 


THE    END 


000817319     7 


